


When Walls Fall Down

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Post-Coital Cuddling, Scars, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: Lorraine keeps saying that it isn't real. But sometimes Lorraine doesn't even believe herself.





	When Walls Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> Late to the party, but I just saw this movie and knew I had to FIX IT.

"Where did you get this scar?"

They're both naked, and Delphine's index finger is tracing the healed wound on Lorraine's upper back, where her shoulder meets her torso. It's three in the morning, and beyond the window Berlin is either celebrating or getting ready to host a riot. Possibly both. Delphine likes to lie on her side after sex, and sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't. Mostly they don't, because Lorraine is a wall made of concrete and steel, a wall without a door or even a window. There are things behind that wall she doesn't want Delphine to see or even know about. Not from her, and not firsthand through experience. As much blood as she's spilled, as much of her _own_ blood has been spilled, the wall is for their mutual protection.

But she answers, because there's still a light sheen of sweat on their skin, and the purple light flashing on-and-off, on-and-off outside is oddly calming. Her last cigarette has burned down to the filter and smolders in the ashtray on the nightstand, and the Wall is down and Percival or Satchel or whatever the fuck his name really was got his file permanently closed. If he hadn't gone for Delphine, Lorraine might have let him live, but even with a body that's one continuous bruise, a killer is never more dangerous than when one almost pure thing is a casualty of the world she lives in.

"In Madrid. I was trying to get some Intel out of the country, moved a little slower than usual."

"Another operative?"

"Mercenary. The only thing that's worse than someone who does it for God and country is someone who does it for a paycheck."

Delphine's still tracing the scar, the sheet still tangled around their calves. Her eyes are big and dark in the lack of light, the only illumination coming from the light show outside. They're at her place, which is a mess, nothing like Lorraine's back in London, but there's too much heat to risk going back to the hotel. Besides...she likes it here.

Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous _feelings_ , as much as she ever lets herself feel anything. When you trusted no one, could afford to trust no one, an agent who wanted to be a poet or a rock star but chose _this_ because it sounded exciting is a thin branch to use as a handhold. Much less to share what passes for affection in this cold, barren place.

But Lorraine remembers the way it felt to find Satchel doing his damnedest to kill Delphine, the cord pulled tight and pulling tighter, and she hadn't even thought about it. As hurt as she was, she'd gone from ice-cold to blazing-hot in less time than it took for the adrenaline rush to erase the pain of her injuries. He'd managed to get out of the apartment, onto the street, but like all bloodhounds she'd followed. To his credit, he hadn't begged. 

"You're going away again. Please don't."

Lorraine pulls herself out of the reverie, stepping away from the quicksand of it because Delphine's left hand has moved away from her back to her stomach, where fingers splay against skin and muscle. And there's this _look_ to her as they lie there in the dimness. Like she's seeing something new and familiar all at once. Outside, the night is riotous with noise, fireworks and shouts and occasional gunfire. 

"Do you care about me?"

Even now, Delphine doesn't ask for love, though part of Lorraine is terrified that she will one day. If they survive this, get out of Berlin without being even further compromised, what will happen? It's hard to imagine playing house in the English countryside or even returning to Lorraine's London residence together. The business they're in is dirty, and hasn't she already nearly gotten Delphine killed?

But she's dangerous enough, _mean_ enough, not to give a fuck. Affection was a word she seldom used, love one she used even less often. But someone you'd kill for? In this line of work, that was almost a marriage proposal.

"You know I do."

Her voice is rough, scratchy, because emotions and kindness aren't something she spends a lot of time thinking about. When there''s little room for either, they get forgotten. But Delphine's hand is on her inner thigh now, and Lorraine starts kicking the sheet loose from her lower legs. She'll have new scars after this, scars and maybe stories she'll tell about them, but the bruises and cuts have faded. And maybe Delphine isn't s soft as she looks. Because she's still here.

"Then say it. Tell me you care about me."

Delphine's on top of her, breasts against breasts, and Lorraine's hands drag over her narrow back to her ass. This could all end in tears, but it might not.

"Yeah. Yeah, I care about you."

_Enough to kill for you again._


End file.
